Of Drunken Nights and Magical Debauchery
by Elleonore
Summary: Inquisitor Trevelyan and Dorian share a few bottles of ale and throw in some magic for good measure. Dorian suffers the consequences... Or does he?
1. Prologue - Drunken Revelry

Fereldan ale was a curious brew. Earthy in flavour, strong yet sweet, just like its people. At first Dorian was loathe to try it, but once he had been convinced to sample the flavour, he had quickly developed a taste. The great advantage of this special beverage was its availability. His favourite wines were not quite as easily procured, yet he continually insisted on further deliveries. He was a Tevinter Lord after all, and had a reputation to keep. If word got around that he fancied the local ale... the mere thought made him shiver, which might be the main reason he had agreed to share a few bottles with his dear Inquisitor, after she so amicably exposed his darkest secret, threatening to tell the Iron Bull or even worse, Sera. The price she asked for her silence was paid in occasional companionship over a few mugs of the detestably delicious brew. They both knew she could have simply asked him for his company, and he would have happily obliged, but Inquisitor Trevelyan was as proud as she was powerful and could not bear to admit that she was lonely. Neither could Dorian.

However, after several shared bottles he wished the young woman had revealed her lacking tolerance for alcohol to him before draining half his secret stash. Though he had to admit, after having a few more mugs than strictly necessary himself, watching her decorate her room with ice crystals seemed hilariously funny to him. "At least the ale stays cold this way. It tastes like horse-piss when it's warm" she enlightened him cheerfully. Dorian snorted indignantly. "No one is forcing you to drink all of _my_ secret supply, my dear" he reminded her. "Am I to stay sober while you drink yourself to the void and back?" she chuckled, her eyes not quite focused on his, cheeks pink and words slightly slurred. "I just don't get why you fancy this... this... _stuff_." She spat the last word, her distaste more than obvious, yet not keeping her from lifting the mug to her lips once again. The mark on her hand pulsated in green light, her control over her magic slightly shaken by her intoxicated state. "This _stuff_, my dear, as you so eloquently call it, embodies everything I admire about this land and its people" he slurred mysteriously. Evelyn looked at him for a second, trying to grasp his meaning, before her eyes widened and a wicked grin decorated her lips. "A blonde beer, slightly amber if you look closely. Strong and earthy, sweet in the after-taste. Easily enough available, but only if you don't mind it splitting your skull the next morning." She laughed about her own silly joke, and even Dorian chuckled in response. "Well, if you put it that way..." he shrugged. Lady Trevelyan however was not finished. "But why do you hide your taste for it? You are unreserved enough about every other aspect of your personality." Despite their drunken state, Dorian knew she referred to his sexuality. The fact that he was as open about it as he was baffled her, but she had been raised in a Circle, taught and guarded by hounds of the chantry. He really should not be surprised. "If word of my less-than-refined taste in drink were to spread, what would follow? Vivienne might dare to mock my choice of clothes next, and that would certainly break my heart." He rolled his eyes dramatically. Evelyn snorted in a very un-ladylike manner. If anyone were to see them like this, their reputations would be beyond redemption – of that Dorian was certain.

"The more you drink, the less disgusting it tastes" she finally admitted. "But the _headaches_ the next day, are they really worth it?" Dorian raised an eyebrow as he watched her lift the tankard once again. "If we are lucky, we are eaten by a dragon before we sober up. No headaches for us," he shrugged. Evelyn just frowned at him. Apparently she didn't think his bad joke was funny. "So you're saying debauchery is worth the consequences, because we might not _live_ to see those consequences anyway?" Dorian opened another bottle and re-filled their tankards. "Not living to see the consequences might just _be_ the very consequence of our actions." The Inquisitor frowned, trying to make sense of his words. After a few seconds she gave up and rubbed her eyes with her palms. "Say that again when I'm sober." He chuckled. "Now don't blame your headache on me," he said with a stern look, a small half-smile gracing his lips.

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and rested her head against the back of her chair. "What good is magic if it doesn't cure hangovers?" she asked rhetorically. Dorian frowned. "I am told it does, but the cure should probably be applied by someone more sober than you or I." Evelyn opened her eyes and looked at Dorian. "We are the best mages out here, drunk or not. Come on, let's try to sober up mage-style." Her eyes sparkled and she looked like a teenager. A very eager, very drunk teenager. His gut told him this was a bad idea, but he could not argue with her statement. "As you wish. Who goes first?" Evelyn had not even awaited his reply and readied a spell, directed at her closest friend with nothing but good intentions. He closed his eyes and let it happen.

This would be his last mistake for the night, for while Dorian was proficient with curative magic, he forgot for a crucial moment that she was not. Ignoring her lack of control over the mark on her hand in her current state despite his recognition of the alcohol's effects on her was only the icing on the cake. As her spell hit him, shining green instead of the calming shade of blue healing spells in his experience shed, his world turned black.


	2. Chapter 01

His sleep was dreamless, yet in the back of his mind he noticed a disturbing sound that slowly guided him back into reality. A woman's voice drifted to his ears like through wool, muffled at first, getting louder by the second. Someone was sobbing quietly, voice broken as if she had been doing so for hours. Dorian's head felt as if he had been kicked by an ogre. He would gladly succumb to a few more hours of rest, but the sobbing was quite annoying and needed to be stopped in order for his head to stop aching, of that he was certain. He forced his eyes open and blinked away the drowsiness, only to be greeted by the must unexpected of sights.

Inquisitor Trevelyan was sitting beside him on her bed – how he got into her bed in the first place was a mystery to him – hugging her knees, rocking slowly, silently crying to herself. It was morning already, sunlight flooding the room, but none of the cheerfulness of the day was reflected in the atmosphere.

Beside the bed, his eyes caught a movement. Another woman, red hair covered by a hood, took notice of his waking and gracefully stepped over to Evelyn, carefully laying a hand on the Inquisitor's shoulder, whispering something into her ear. The young mage's eyes immediately shot open, red and puffed from crying, and landed on Dorian.

"Evelyn," he croaked, his voice hoarse, different and entirely unfamiliar. He blinked again as the young woman threw herself at him, hugging him tightly. "Oh Dorian, I am so glad you're awake! And I am so sorry, I didn't know..." she cried into his shoulder, mumbling incoherent things. He instinctively patted her back in a soothing manner, telling her everything was fine through this strange voice of his, while shooting a questioning look at Leliana. The Spymaster just slowly shook her head. She would not be the one to provide an explanation.

As Evelyn hugged him even tighter, Dorian suddenly noticed a sharp pain shooting through his chest. He automatically pushed the young woman away and looked down on himself only to be met with...well, certainly not his body the way he was used to it. He looked at Evelyn in shock, begging with his eyes for an explanation, unable to pronounce a syllable. She just lowered her eyes. "I am so sorry, Dorian..." As fast as his still intoxicated body would let him, he jumped up and stumbled in front of the mirror, only to be met by the reflection of a stranger. A very beautiful stranger mind you, yet a stranger nonetheless. A very female looking stranger.

As if not believing the reflection, he first touched the glass to ensure he was actually looking through a mirror, then led his hand to his face, feeling smoothness where his moustache was supposed to be. Next he touched his slightly curly hair that reached his mid-back. Dorian swallowed. He had been turned into a woman.

Tears gathered in his eyes and he began to chuckle humourlessly. Was he going mad?

* * *

A few hours later, the three women were still sitting in the Inquisitor's chambers. Leliana had food delivered to them, claiming Evelyn was too sick to leave her room for the day and she was here to debrief her on matters that could not be delayed. Nobody would dare question the Nightingale.

"So when you found me like... like this," he started, the hoarseness of his voice fading with the hangover, leaving a melodic tune that sounded slightly mocking, "you immediately sought out our dear Spymaster, but no one else." Evelyn nodded. "I didn't want word to spread, but there is no hiding anything from Leliana anyway, and I needed help." Leliana's face was impassive, standing by while listening to their conversation. "I see," was all Dorian could say in response. He took a sip of the tea that was brought to the apparently sick Inquisitor, frowning at the taste, but preoccupied with other worries. "Do you know how you did it? I mean, do you think you..." ...could reverse it? He did not need to finish the sentence. They all knew this was what he was hoping for. Evelyn shook her head. "Maybe I could, but I don't want to try... I could hurt you, or I could make I worse."

"Worse?" Dorian chuckled humourlessly. His new voice made it sound even more condescending than usual, the dark eyes of the beautiful woman he now was were glinting in mockery. "I cannot imagine a 'worse'." Leliana chuckled in response. "Could you not? I daresay you are currently the most beautiful woman in Skyhold. Until we find a way out of this predicament, maybe you could try to see the bright side?" Her eyes sparkled, she was clearly amused by his misery.

"I cannot stay in this form. What if someone saw me?" Dorian's voice grew louder. "And who would recognize you, or even guess any kind of relation?" Leliana replied. "I imagine you do not wish for word to spread." It was not a question, yet Dorian felt the need to answer. "Of course not, we must handle this discreetly." Leliana nodded, while Evelyn looked at her friend in thought. The Spymaster's eyes sparkled. She was scheming something. Dorian had always silently hoped never to find himself at the end of her plots, yet here he was, utterly helpless and depending on Leliana of all people.

"Lord Dorian Pavus has left for Tevinter last night. A tragic casualty in his family forced him to leave Skyhold at once. He only had time to inform the Inquisitor and myself. For how long he will be gone depends on the swiftness with which he will be able to settle his family matters." She paused, looking at the other two women, giving them a chance to interfere. Dorian frowned, but did not object. "Go on," Evelyn asked eagerly. "One of my spies, a mage from Tevinter," Dorian winced at this but Leliana was not deterred, "had been injured on a standard mission. This has proven that my kind of work does not suit her as well as I had hoped, and therefore I have transferred her to Skyhold. While I had hoped the young lady would join our regular forces, the Inquisitor had taken a shine to this particular mage and thus elevated her into her personal inner circle."

Dorian frowned. "Too clumsy to be a spy? How desperate." The Nightingale smiled her wicked smile in response. "I take it you can still use your magic?" Dorian immediately summoned a small flame into his palm. At least this part of his was unaltered.

Evelyn frowned at Leliana. "Don't you think it might be suspicious that just as one Tevinter mage disappears without bidding his farewells, another shows up and I immediately befriend her?" The Spymaster nodded. "It would sound suspicious if we allowed any connection between the two events to be made. It is up to us how well we play this game." Dorian sighed. "Why do I have to be Tevinter? We could make up something else, something less suspicious." He rested his elbow in his hand, rubbing his chin with his fingers. Leliana smiled. "Do you think you could be anyone else than yourself? The way you speak, the way you hold yourself leaves no doubt as to your identity. We can only avoid identification if we disguise your traits as cultural rather than personal."

Evelyn nodded. "So you're saying we pretend all Tevinter mages act and speak like Dorian, so no one will guess anything?" Leliana nodded. "Correct."

Dorian shook his head in frustration and badly concealed anger. "You truly think not a soul in Skyhold will know me? Some of these people are my friends, they are bound to suspect something!" "Dorian," Leliana interrupted, her voice calm and steady, "have you ever heard of any magic like this?" He thought for a second, then shook his head. "Never." The Spymaster nodded. "Neither have I. While this will not stop me from investigating, no one in Skyold has any reason to assume any connection between Lord Pavus' disappearance and your sudden arrival. Furthermore, I will vouch for your character. You think anyone would question my judgement?"

Dorian swallowed. "I hope you are right... But please, do whatever you can as fast as you can." The Spymaster nodded. "You have my word."

Evelyn brushed Dorian's hair out of his face, tucking a strand behind his ear. "Think of it as an adventure." He rolled his eyes in response, which made the other two women chuckle. "Now come on, let's find you some clothes that actually fit." Evelyn immediately ran to her cupboard, digging through the kinds of dresses she would never wear herself. "Just don't make me wear any robes!" he insisted.

"I will have clothes made and sent to your new quarters," Leliana said. "New quarters?" Dorian protested, but then sighed in acceptance. Of course he could not sleep in his own bed. Leliana nodded. "And while I prepare our little ploy, you think of a new name. Also discuss whether you wish to inform Solas. As the authority on the Fade, he might be able to help." With these words she left the Inquisitor's quarters. There was much to be done.


End file.
